The Covered Way of Love
by jodief1
Summary: A sequel to "How Delicious Was the Glow...," continuing the love story of Maud and Sue following the end of the 2005 BBC adaptation of Sarah Waters' Fingersmith.
1. Chapter 1

"**The Covered Way of Love…" (Part One)**

**by **

**jodief1**

**A/N:** The sequel to "How Delicious Was the Glow…," following on from the end of the 2005 BBC adaptation of Sarah Waters' _Fingersmith_. (I own nothing!) Originally published on the sadly defunct site fingersmithfever dot com, which now lives on only in the Wayback Machine (but some excellent authors posted there, if you're interested).

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><p>That day was one of those rare, glorious Autumn days, as I've come to know over the years. Of course, I didn't think any day was glorious, when I was a girl in London ― for every day is gritty in the Borough. We had only cared whether there was rain, that might keep the toffs indoors but make getaways easier; or whether there was snow, that might make our hands too numb to pick locks. But I had experienced some days like this one the year before, when I had been content to walk silently with that strange girl in her wooded park. At first I had enjoyed our outings because I didn't have to play the part that I played so badly, and I could keep my thoughts to myself; but eventually, I liked just being in her presence, seeing her out of that damned library and breathing the fresh air. Then Gentleman had come and ruined everything, even our walks.<p>

Now here I was, standing at the curtains in my shift, so caught up in all these memories that I didn't even hear Maud call out to me from the bed. She stepped behind me, lifting up my hair to kiss my shoulder. "A fine lookout you must've made, peering out the window while you let someone sneak up on you from behind. I said, how's the weather? Sue?"

I turned and kissed her quickly, but couldn't muster a clever response. I could see it in her face, a flash of recognition, as she blinked and waited. The moment had changed, even though I didn't want it to; I wanted to be distracted from my memories, not to let them set the mood. But I knew ― we both did ― that our time together would not always be gay.

"It's a fine, fine day," I said with a reassuring smile, "and we'd better get out, because we'll be cooped up in here all day to stay warm, soon enough. Not that I'll mind…," I winked as I leaned my head against hers conspiratorially. I thought of adding, "Remember how we stayed warm, last year?" ― but then thought the better of getting tangled in that particular rat's nest just yet.

Maud smiled, looking at me earnestly; and when she saw that I didn't want to say anything else just then, she touched my face and kissed my forehead decisively. "Quite right," she said. "Time to go survey your estate, my love. But I must warn you, I haven't been out much lately. We'll have to brave the jungle, and whatever beasts might be living in it."

"You can't scare me," I said, as she turned away from me to head for the clothespress; "I can be a beast myself!" And I reached out, growling, to pinch her, as she swatted my hand and bit her lip to keep from laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

"**The Covered Way of Love…" (Part Two)**

**by**

**jodief1**

Well, I can tell you, it took us quite some time to get out of that room, even after we'd fixed on going. For one thing, it was the first time I'd dressed Maud without pretending and calling her "Miss," ― and I confess, I couldn't keep my hands off. Makes me blush to think of it now, and mind you, there's not much can make me blush anymore; but I was walking on air, and so was she, and we didn't know what to do with ourselves. Or rather we were starting to get an idea what to do with ourselves, but that was just the problem. It was some time before we knew how to pull ourselves together to get out of our rooms. For a few months it was all or nothing, if you know what I mean ― all in private, that is, and nothing in public, so terrified were we to be called out by anyone else.

But I remember that particular day clear as anything, because it was too gorgeous to pass up, even if it meant keeping my hands to myself for a little while. I gave Maud a final peck on the neck and finished buttoning her up, making sure not to smell her hair, or touch her skin, or look at the curve of her chin. Oh Lord, I may be an older woman now, but some things don't change. I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from Maud toward the door. "Time we were off," I said brightly as I could, but my heart bucked at the last moment, and I nearly scarpered right back into bed. It was so inviting, and the world could be so cruel…. But then I let myself look at Maud, and she nodded encouragingly. "Go on," she said gently. "We'll be back."

The weight lifted, and I stepped out into the musty hallway. When she'd closed the door behind us, Maud began to search her pockets for a key, but at length she threw up her hands in exasperation. "Bother," she said, "whatever did I do with that key? I suppose we needn't lock the door; I don't know why I've taken to doing it, anyway. I don't think the Inkers will intrude ― they know too well how I like my privacy. Let's go." She took a few steps away, and reached behind her to take my arm; but then she realised that I had not moved, and she turned to me with an eyebrow raised in inquiry. Stifling a laugh with one hand, I held up the key with the other. Maud's eyes twinkled as she came back to me and pressed her hands about mine. "Here's a proposition for you, my sly little fingersmith. If I teach you the tricks of my trade, will you teach me yours?"

"I don't know," I said, sticking out my chin; "why would a lady want to pick pockets?"

"I don't know," Maud replied, lazily tracing my collarbone; "why would a lady want to read lewd books?"

"A lady?" I scoffed. "Now listen here. You can take the girl out of Lant Street, but…"

"No," Maud said quickly and quietly, smile fading, like she were kicking herself; "I don't want to take Lant Street out of you." I looked straight at her then, and saw the truth of it. She missed Lant Street, in a way, and wanted to hang on to a piece of it, in me. She had hardly got to know her ma, after all. That's what I told myself, anyway, because I hadn't yet admitted that I wasn't ready to let go of the madhouse either. We all carry a certain kind of torch for the worst thing that's ever happened to us, I think.


	3. Chapter 3

"**The Covered Way of Love…" (Part Three)**

**by **

**jodief1**

We hadn't had any dinner, of course, only the bits of bread and fruit that we had eaten, legs entwined, in the bed. I was surprised that Maud had allowed it! ― but then, as she had said the previous day, I was just getting to know her, as she really was. At any rate, before we could go out-of-doors, we had to beg something more from poor Mrs Inker. (Poor, I say; because she hadn't yet realised that she was going to have to cook up a storm to keep up with our appetites, what with all our new exertions.)

Though we didn't speak it, I think that Maud and I already had silently agreed not to appear always together, like Siamese twins; and so Maud smiled her encouragement and squeezed my arm, before turning away to idle in the hall near the door whilst I ventured gamely down the stairs. At once, Mrs Inker heard me coming, and fairly bowled me over with the same babble she'd laid on us the day before: Was I now quite restored? Thank the Lord! and how fared Miss Maud? &c. I did my best turn as an innocent, calmly asking her to pack a basket, and intimating some of that customary familiarity between servants ― but I didn't go so far as to say "Miss Maud." I think I said "we," instead, and thanked her a little coolly, just to put out the hint that I was not the same Miss Smith, not anymore.

Finally, I smiled politely as Mrs Inker handed me the basket, sighing over the notion that her good Miss Maud might improve her complexion by taking some air; and then I smiled in earnest as I huffed it back up the stairs to my companion. Maud turned toward me as I appeared, and I must've made a face to show what I'd endured, for she put back her head and laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes. No nervous tittering behind her hand, mind you, but a full-mouthed, gasping fit, as she sagged against the wall and wiped her eyes. I couldn't help laughing myself, and I set down the basket to hold her up as she clutched my arm. I could see her small white teeth, and her splotchy red cheeks, and I thought, how long it has been since I've heard that music!

At length Maud composed herself, her chest heaving in just the same way it did in passion; so I swallowed hard, stooped down to pick up the basket, and marched resolutely toward the front hall, with Maud's arm tucked firmly under mine. "Oh, Sue, wait," she sputtered, "I was just thinking…should we bring along a parasol?" I looked her over mock-sternly and said, "Is it really that bright out? I'm not sure I can trust you to go find one without collapsing in hysterics, miss." Maud bit her lip, and poked me in the arm so that I dropped hers; I rubbed my arm and moaned dramatically, but she stepped quickly away from me to open a creaky door across the passage. She leaned in, and dusty objects came flying out of a closet: a short broom, two mismatched boots, a small brass doorstopper, and a frayed glove. Like an actor in a pantomime, Maud emerged victorious, holding aloft a grayish-pink parasol with lace frills; but a dark spiderweb had clung to her forehead, and so once again, I had to set down my basket and approach her, chuckling, to brush her off. "You're worse than a child!" I exclaimed, and Maud grinned up at me as she replied, "Indeed I am, much worse. For I never was a child, and so never had occasion to grow up. Now, this thing," she said, shaking out the parasol, "has seen better days, but it should do the trick. It's not the sun that concerns me, my dear, as much as prying eyes; but just say the word, and I'll put it back." She batted her eyes at me, and my jaw went slack. Just who was this woman, and what was she playing at?


	4. Chapter 4

"**The Covered Way of Love…" (Part Four)**

**by **

**jodief1**

The great door slammed shut behind us with an echoing sound and a rush of stale air, like a stone slab sealing a tomb. As we turned off the front walk and onto one of our favourite garden paths, Maud stopped, leaned on my arm, and took several greedy, gulping breaths, as if she had been holding her breath for months inside that dark house. I, too, felt the light breeze filling up my lungs; and for a moment I felt as though I might rise up into the air, and I grabbed at Maud. We looked at one another then, and laughed, just as we used to do whenever we left that house. I'm sure we looked a fright: two pallid girls, gripping one another, terrified to go out into the world ― invalids, madwomen, or both? It was a good thing that we were alone.

Free of other human company, that is, but not _entirely_ alone: the great trees stretched out above us, and the little shafts of light slipping through their locked branches were teeming with life. I had never before marked the cacophony of songbirds, of insects and creatures scurrying through the underbrush; but then, of course, I hadn't been here to hear it the previous autumn. I shuddered, remembering where I _had_ been, and I wondered whether the chorus of animals became louder in anticipation of the fatal hush of winter. (Now I know, of course, that the chorus is just as loud, if not more so, in summer. I just didn't notice it my first season at Briar, for I had been blind, deaf and dumb to everything apart from Maud and our intrigues.)

Presently we came to a patch of garden that was very nearly overgrown, round the side of the house. Rather than go back to the main track, however, we gamely decided to venture on; and Maud almost imperceptibly pressed me forward while she followed. At first, I picked my way over small branches and dodged bushes, all the while looking back to help Maud along as well. We stepped in silence, lifting our skirts, and trying not to turn an ankle or rip a hem; but when I tried to press back a tangle of thorns so that Maud could pass it, I lost my careful grip at the last instant, and several branches snapped forward to jab Maud right across the bum and back. Poor thing, if only she'd been wearing her cage! We found the scratches later, when I undressed her, and I kissed every one. But just then, Maud gave a little shriek and stumbled forward, clutching at me, and I reached out to steady her while she ran a pale hand over her backside. Then she surprised me by swearing, using words she could only have learned from her books. I pulled away a little, looked down and couldn't help blushing, for even a sailor would have done the same! She rubbed crossly at her scratches for a moment before looking up at me; but when she saw the flush in my cheeks, her frown turned to a look of astonishment, as she realised what she had just said. I couldn't help laughing, and even she began to chuckle.

"You alright?" I asked her, and she nodded and gave me an encouraging little smile. "I'm sorry, love," I said bracingly; "but you were right about this wilderness. Can't say you didn't know what you were getting into!"

"True," Maud replied a little ruefully, as she looked all around her; "I had no idea it was this far gone. But it's extraordinary, don't you think, that all this could grow back so quickly, for it was last cut back only a few weeks ago! Even the thorns: I almost admire their tenacity; I just wish that they weren't so … damned … _spiky_."

She laughed a little, and reached out tentatively to touch one of the offending barbs. While she gently fingered the thorn, she turned her face slowly to me. Her faint smile remained, but she stayed still for a moment and searched my eyes earnestly. I felt a flood of affection for her just then, with just a little heartache mixed in; and I could only nod and smile in response, and give her arm a little squeeze.

Then the moment ended, and I turned to look at the path ahead. There were many more plucky bushes on either side, and large patches of tall, rough weeds; so I gave Maud the basket I had been carrying, and took the folded parasol from her, and I held it out before me. I puffed up my chest, lifted my head, turned to my sweetheart and motioned gallantly for her to move behind me once more. I heard her giggle, but I didn't see whether she kept laughing ― I must have been quite a sight! ― for I faced the path again, and, brandishing the parasol like a swashbuckler's sword, I began to edge forward, beating away all the foliage on either side of the path as I went. Maud stayed close behind me, with her hand upon my back; and I would glance back occasionally to see how she fared. Just before we reached the clearing at the end of the path, I turned once more to give her a little wink. A look I had never seen before stole across Maud's face: she bit her lip, which already was curved into an excited little smile, and there was a flash of recognition in her eyes, as if the scene before her evoked some oft-recalled incident. I wondered briefly what she might be thinking of; but then, I returned to my labours, and, a few chops later, we had passed the last bush and rejoined the main track.

I sighed, wiped my brow with my sleeve, and turned to Maud, whose look was now entirely different. She smiled warmly and reached out to brush leaves and pluck burrs from my dress. When she was done, I gave her the same treatment, turning her round by degrees like a tailor; but when I was behind her, I touched her more gently, and I bent down quickly to plant a light kiss at the small of her back. Her fingers brushed my neck, and she made a small noise ― I wasn't sure whether it was one of pleasure or of concern that someone might see ― but I straightened up right away in any case, grinned at Maud and held out my arm to her. She took it, shaking her head slightly and hiding her wide smile with her hand, and we proceeded to walk across the clearing toward the river and the meadow beyond.


	5. Chapter 5

"**The Covered Way of Love…" (Part Five)**

**by**

**jodief1**

Now that we were strolling in the open along the river, Maud had traded me the basket for the parasol once more: she was twirling it on her shoulder, and I was swinging the basket and whistling a little tune. We would have made a great double act for vaudeville, I think, back on the London stage. As we stretched our legs to begin walking uphill from the river toward the great meadow, I began to feel quite giddy. The day really was splendid; the sky was cloudless, the warm afternoon sun had begun to cast lovely shadows, and the gentlest of breezes drifted across the grass. I thought I might jump out of my skin with happiness, and so I turned to Maud, touched her arm, and said, "Let's race to the Tree!" This was a grand oak, standing all alone, almost midway up the slope ― it had been a favourite destination of Gentleman's, when he was pretending to teach Maud how to paint landscapes. The only thing that had made those sessions bearable for me was the singular character of this tree: I had spent many a tedious afternoon resting between its roots, idly tracing its burls and lightning-scars, and craning my neck trying to spot the family of robins that nested in one of its branches.

Maud scoffed at me then, and shook the parasol, protesting, "I can't run with this! You'll beat me, no doubt!" I was so eager to run that I grabbed the parasol from her and held it up, together with the basket. "Here you are, then! I'll take these both, and I'll still beat you! Now, are you ready? Come and catch me!"

I turned and started to run, though I almost immediately regretted my challenge: for one thing, my skirts kept getting underfoot, and I had no free hand to lift them; and for another, I was lurching from side to side with each step, because the parasol hardly balanced out the basket. But nevertheless I enjoyed the feeling of motion, of freedom, as the blood churned through my body, and the breeze tugged on my hair. I looked back to see Maud bobbing along after me, laughing ― but, just before I reached the Tree, I noticed that her face was very flushed, and I felt suddenly guilty that I had subjected her to so much exertion in one day. Now that I thought about it, this was likely her first outing in months, perhaps the first since we last had walked together! As I slowed my pace to turn to her, I tripped over a hole in the ground, and fell flat on the ground. Maud reached the tree first, after all; but as soon as she realised what had happened, she staggered, with a heaving chest, a few feet downhill to help me up. She bent over, with her hands on her knees for support, and stretched a hand out to me.

"Are … you … alright?" Maud panted. I took her hand, nodded, and started to pull myself up. "Well … at least … I gave you … a run … for your money!" she said, with a wide grin, as I brushed myself off and tested my arms and legs. I didn't let go of her hand, however, and once I had straightened up, I shook it vigorously and did my best imitation of a racer who'd just been bested. "Nicely played, miss," I said; "lend us a hand, will you?" She jauntily scooped up the basket and the parasol and offered her arm to guide me the few remaining steps to the Tree.

I leaned against the great trunk while Maud laid out a thin cloth under the shady canopy, and then she reached up to me and pulled me down to the ground. Both of us sat still for several long moments, trying to catch our breath, until I leaned over and kissed her briskly. She laughed and reached forward to take up the parasol, which she opened, and then placed on one side so as to block our view of the river. I began to protest, but she quieted me with a piece of fruit and a wink, saying, "I'd like to enjoy the day, Sue, without worry. Wouldn't you?"

Some time later, we had finished our little picnic, removed our shoes and a few other unwanted items of clothing, and were lying, exhausted and happy, under the old robins' nest. I was running my fingers through Maud's long hair, no longer concerned about painful tangles, or lingering touches, or secret desires. I wondered how anyone, man or woman, could go through life without knowing that intense pleasure, that feeling of smooth skin beneath a silky cascade.

At length, Maud lifted her head from my shoulder and propped her head upon her hand so that she could gaze down at me. Her face was so open, so frank and close, that I couldn't help kissing her, more deeply than I had meant to do. But the drumming of my heart and the surge in my ears overwhelmed me, so that I pulled away suddenly, needing air. In the heat of that moment I felt a sudden flush of fear, or rage. I would sometimes mark this peculiar lightning in the early days after I returned to Briar, and to Maud: usually, it would strike and then pass, all in the same instant. Once or twice, it made me feel sick. Now, the first time it struck, I looked up into the lovely face of the woman who had betrayed me, and I felt as if the world held its breath. Would I retch? Would I run away? Or, worst of all, would I feel nothing? Could my hate blot out my love?

Instead, I felt it all wash together ― the love and the hate, the fear and the hope. That was the rub of it, you see: I loved Maud even more for her betrayal. It proved that she's hot-blooded like me, and shrewd; not the china doll I'd feared to break. I wouldn't have wanted a pigeon this much, not for long anyway. I saw then that our past was a chain around us, but a golden one, and its lock couldn't be picked by no-one, not even by me in my best days as a sharper. The lightning never frightened me again after that day, even though it still struck from time to time for a few years afterwards.

The moment passed, then, but it had jangled my nerves a bit, and made me bold. So I opened my eyes, which I had closed, like a character "deep in the throes of passion," in one of Maud's books ― and I cackled, and rolled her over so that I was above her and pressing into her. Maud's eyes got wide, like her smile, and she challenged me: "Go on then! Take your revenge!"

I couldn't fool her, then, after all; but that was the point. I had met my match, and she hers.


End file.
